You Can't Help What You Are
by mandaree1
Summary: In which Steven, being at least partially inorganic, shows the odd symptoms that are more gem than human; a disinterest in eating and sleeping, acting a bit too literal, etc.
**Disclaimer: I don't own Steven Universe!**

 **Title: You Can't Help What You Are**

 **Summary: In which Steven, being at least partially inorganic, shows the odd symptoms that are more gem than human; a disinterest in eating and sleeping, acting a bit too literal, etc.**

 **Author's Note: I've yet to see anyone fiddle with this idea, so why the heck not? (And how about the promo, eh? We're in for quite a ride.)**

 **...**

Steven hears the whistle of air being cut through like butter, and has the air promptly knocked out of him slightly as he's squished against the couch. Sharp teeth and long claws inform him he's just been pounced on by a large cat of some variety; probably a puma. It growls, but even in the half-light of the stars outside Steven can make out the familiar and comforting sight of the gem in its chest.

"Hey, Amethyst."

He squints his eyes against the glow as she returns to her original form, smiling; he finds himself breathing a soft sigh of relief he hadn't known he was holding. Amethyst was a much less threatening face to see than a puma, even if she was just as wild. (Gems, he's come to realize, aren't exactly tame. They're feral in ways even humans aren't.)

"Hey, dude. What're you doing up so late?"

"I could ask _you_ the same question."

"I was gettin' a snack." She shrugs. Long hair tickles his nose, and he wrinkles it accordingly, so she finally pulls back to give him some space. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Why'd you pounce on me?"

"Had to get your attention _somehow_." Another shrug. "You didn't answer my question."

"'M not tired." He admits, uncurling into a sprawl on the couch.

"Nightmare?"

"No, just not sleepy." Normally a yawn would accompany such a statement, but Steven's eyes don't even droop. "It's not, even, like overtired awake, either. My everything feels fine."

"No body aches, no nothin'?"

"No nothing." He agrees.

"Ah." Amethyst hums. "Yeah. I know that feel, bro. I get like that sometimes. Wanna pig out on snacks and watch movies?"

Steven perks up. "Won't Pearl be mad?"

"Probably, but I'm not Pearl. I'll tell her what's up in the morning." Amethyst is already heading for the bags of popcorn in the fridge. "S' better than sitting in the dark all night."

"Okay. But leave me a bag!"

Amethyst tromps back up the steps a few minutes later, carrying two bowls of popcorn. Steven's surprised she limited herself to just one, but then, she probably ate a few, plastic and all, before nuking the rest.

She sets his down, then crawls onto the bed on all fours, bowl clamped between her teeth. He's seen Amethyst move like that before- she's quite adept at switching between the two walking styles- but he's fairly she's doing it for comedic effect as she turns a few times before flopping down like an oversized pet, gracefully opening her jaw to let the bowl fall dangerously to the sheets. It wobbles a second, then stills. "Aight. I'm ready."

Steven clicks on the first movie- pre-recorded for the family movie night, but he'll just act like he hasn't seen it- and shoves some popcorn into his mouth, curious about her actions more than he is the colorful characters on the screen. "Amethyst?"

"Yup?"

"Does it feel weird, flipping to all fours?"

"Steven, you're a kid. You _can't_ tell me you haven't tried it before."

Well, yeah, but people don't really remember their crawling days as babies. "But, like, what you're doing now. Is it uncomfortable, laying like that?"

Amethyst glances down at herself, surprised, as though she'd hardly noticed doing it. "Hmm, nah. It keeps my gem warm. I like that."

Steven almost brings up that she would always be warm if she fully covered it, but bit his tongue. Amethyst is complicated, and it could very well be that she wasn't comfortable wearing something with that high of a collar. Also; he's fairly sure it's considered a shameful thing, seeing how every gem he's ever seen lets their life force hang out on display rather than do the proper thing and shield it.

"Can I try?"

"Uh, duh. S' your bed."

Another mouthful of popcorn procured, he snaps the pieces with a single bite and pulls himself up, stretching and curling up like she did. The press of sheets and pajamas against his gem is oddly comforting, like she said. He swallowed. "Wow."

"Yeah?"

"It's actually pretty easy."

"Well, yeah. You got four limbs for a reason, dude." She grins at him, lips covered in butter, before dipping a sticky hand into the bowl once again.

Steven shifts a bit. It didn't particularly feel like anything, natural or otherwise, laying like this; it just was. He remembered how easily he crunched through a handful of pure kernels while Connie usually chews a bit before swallowing and felt weird. He wasn't sure if it was a good or bad feeling.

It just was.

* * *

Pearl's movements remind him of fluttering birds; soft, purposeful, and graceful. For the longest time he had assumed she'd made the conscious choice to be that way; it was a punch to the gut to find out she'd been made that way, not to be a skillful technician or strategist, but to look pretty. Which would be fine, if it were her choice, but it wasn't, and they made her that way and _only_ that way, because they didn't see her as anything more than that. (But she has to like that about herself, or she would've changed it when she reinvented her life over and over again, right? Or were some things about your gemetics impossible to kick?)

Likewise, there's something like the flicking of a feathered wing in how she puts a hand to his forehead. "You don't _feel_ hot..." Her lips tighten. "No more so than usual, at least."

Steven, perched on the counter, says; "I don't have a fever, Pearl. Promise."

"Are you sure?" She looks so lost in the world of human functions outside of written word it makes his heart soften. _This_ was the Pearl he knew; intelligent, but sorely lacking when it came to humans. He wondered what Pearl Homeworld knew; not the brave soldier who sent armies home with shaking knees, but the one before that, before- well, before. He doesn't really know a lot about Pearl's story. "Fever symptoms usually include a lack of appetite. Of course, the same could be said for illness." She puts a hand to her chin. "You don't _look_ sick."

"I'm not. I feel _fine,_ Pearl, really." He attempts a smile.

Pearl isn't convinced. "But you're not eating."

"It happens. Everybody feels hungrier some days than they do others."

"But you need food to survive." Pearl argues. "How can you _not_ feel hungry?"

Steven runs his fingers through his unruly hair. "I dunno. It just seems silly, I guess."

There's a pause. "Eating. Eating sounds silly."

"Yeah?"

"I see. It must be one of those things. I feel the same way."

He perks up. "You do?"

"Of course. It's strictly a human concept." She paused. "Well, _mostly_. I'm not sure Amethyst could go without eating and still be happy." Pearl easily plucks him from the counter. An ancient, instinctual part of him screams that he's too big for her and she's going to drop him, but the overwhelming amount of trust calms that irrational fear. "How about this. I'll teach you how to make something we can store in the fridge for when you _do_ feel hungry."

"Really?"

"I'd be happy to. Let's get started."

(Two days later he and Amethyst pig out on leftovers and clean out the fridge. Pearl sighs in a way best described as loving but aspirated and grabs the dishes to be washed.)

* * *

"Do you think normal people ever feel lonely, since they can't fuse?"

Steven doubts there's a greater level of safety than being perched in Garnet's lap, long fingers tangled with his shorter stubby ones. Her two gems are practically gleaming in the light; loud and proud.

He'd always had a notion, in the back of his mind, that Garnet was a fusion. Much like how a friend tells you a secret you find doesn't surprise you, a part of him that knew his family better than he did had always had a guess she was two gems in one, rather than just a rare kind of gem with two stones. The suspicion had only grown subconsciously when he found out about poofing; if she were one, how would that work? Would she only regenerate if they were next to each other? Would two halves of Garnet be running around, looking for each other? (Ironically, that's exactly the answer.)

It's why he had accepted the truth without much thought, that day; he'd always speculated, even if he didn't realize.

Steven wondered what it was like, hiding something so important about yourself. He couldn't imagine not telling people he was half-gem.

"Hmm." Garnet hums playfully. "I don't know. You didn't fuse until recently. Were _you_ lonely?"

His brow furrows. "I guess not. Not in that way. I didn't know what I was missing."

"Exactly. Besides, humans have ways of being close to each other." Garnet wriggles her fingers. "To them, fusion isn't something to be missed."

He thinks of Connie and their jam sessions and finds himself blushing. "Oh. Right. Sorry."

"S' okay. Pearl thinks like that, sometimes." She muses. "Must be a normal gem thing."

"But I'm _not_ a normal gem!" Steven protests. He almost says "I'm not a gem at all!", but that would be the same as saying he wasn't human, either; it was a bit tricky.

"Fair enough. You got normal gem codin' in you, though. Bound to change how you see certain things."

"That was a mean thing to ask, wasn't it?" He frets. "It sounded so insensitive."

"S' okay." Garnet repeats. "Pearl's asked the same thing. It doesn't bother me."

* * *

Connie looks remarkably guilty as she helps Steven wrap a wound on his hand. "It's _still_ bleeding?"

"Yeah. Don't yours bleed?"

"Well, yes, I suppose. Never this long, though. I thought you told me it was shallow!"

"It is! I'm just not really made to knit myself back together like you do, you know? It takes longer."

"Oh." Connie says. "I see."

Sighing with relief that he wasn't in any real danger, she slumps against the stone wall next to him. The sky arena stretches out before them, untouched save for the forgotten blade of Connie's sword, a dab of blood near the tip.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so careless."

"It's okay. I'm glad you're getting so good." Steven hisses a bit as he clenches his fist. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Still." She says. "I'm supposed to protect you."

"We protect each other." He reminds her gently.

"Exactly! I'm not supposed to _hurt_ you."

Steven passively examines his hand. "My body wants me to poof, I think."

"You can't poof. At least, you think." She bites her lip. "I guess your instincts wouldn't know that."

"Yeah. So I keep bleeding." He shrugs, disheartened. "It'll close eventually, when I'm not looking. Not even a scar."

" _Can_ you scar?"

"I think so? I mean, it'd have to be a scary bad injury, but I could do it. Maybe."

"Oh." She repeats. "I see."

"Is that weird?"

"No more than anything else we do." Connie sets a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's just part of who you are."

"You think so?"

"I do. I just hope my slip-up will heal soon."

"It will." He promises warmly, and notices the blood slowing. "It always does."

 **Author's Note: I feel like I write Amethyst too seriously. I mean, she's far from just a comedic character, but I tend to lack the usual amount of weird humor she possesses in my stories. I think I got it better here.**

 **I have entirely too much fun experimenting with ideas like this.**

 **-Mandaree1**


End file.
